


Afterglow

by jinkandtherebels



Series: second chance 'verse [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkandtherebels/pseuds/jinkandtherebels
Summary: Snowed in, Itachi and Shisui get a chance to address some Feelings. And other things.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Shisui
Series: second chance 'verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/407608
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57
Collections: Naruto Smut Monday 2021





	Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of the year, y'all! And it's a fill for the Naruto Smut Monday prompt "Snowed In". This is meant to take place somewhere between the last few scenes of "Sometimes You Only Get One Chance", so we're going waaay back. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (Also, to everyone who's been leaving comments on my stuff recently - you're awesome, I cherish you, and I will respond when Quarantine Brain isn't eating my ability to focus on literally anything!!)

“It would seem we are snowed in,” Itachi announces as he returns to the bedroom, tea in hand. Shisui is momentarily distracted by the tea—his boyfriend is such an old man sometimes, it’s adorable—and only gets to registering the words after a few seconds.

“Snowed in?” he repeats. “For real?”

Itachi gestures towards the window. His sweater sleeves are too long, Shisui notices; they practically cover his fingers. “See for yourself.”

Shisui’s still in pajamas, and his feet start freezing the second they hit the floor. He doesn’t get these rich people houses with their fancy wood flooring—it looks classy, sure, but it’s also cold as hell basically all the time. He practically tiptoes to the window and then lets out a low whistle.

“Damn. I love having seasons that are impossible to predict by literally _any_ mortal means.”

Itachi hums in agreement. “I hope there was nothing pressing you needed to accomplish today.”

“Oh, for sure,” Shisui says breezily. “But I guess my meeting with the President will just have to wait.”

“I would be less concerned with him than with your sister,” Itachi says, pointedly. Shisui winces.

“Okay, yeah, fair point. Mind if I use your phone so she doesn’t kill me with her bare hands?”

Itachi’s eyes are laughing behind the rim of his mug. “It’s in the kitchen.”

Shisui kisses the top of his head on the way out. Just because.

It’s been—what, two days since they got back together? And Shisui likes to think it’s going pretty well. He’d invited himself to stay over and Itachi hadn’t thrown him out. They’d shared a bed in the totally chaste sense, which Shisui might have been bummed about if it hadn’t been the most comfortable sleep he’s had in his life. Normally falling asleep takes him an age of staring at the ceiling and contemplating the merits of just knocking himself unconscious with a wrench or something, but last night it’d felt like he blinked and then it was morning. Another heretofore-unknown benefit of True Love, he’s assuming.

And somewhere in between getting into bed and passing out, Itachi had asked Shisui to come to England with him. And Shisui had said yes.

Which is a pretty fucking big deal, all things considered. Shisui hasn’t totally wrapped his head around it. There are probably things he should be figuring out. People he should be telling—like Natsu, who is currently grumbling over the phone that he’d better be ready to explain all the shit that’s gone down when he gets home, or Anko, who will eviscerate him if she’s not the first to know.

But it’s still so _new_. Everything between them still feels…raw. Like a wound that’ll start bleeding again if Shisui pokes at it too hard. Hazards of breaking up and making up, right? He’s got to assume that feeling will go away at some point.

Assuming Itachi doesn’t change his mind again.

Shisui shakes the thought off—he’s had to do it enough times in the last few days that it’s not super hard anymore—assures Natsu that no, he hasn’t forgotten that he still owes her money for a new boombox, and hangs up the phone.

He still isn’t used to how big this house is. It takes him a minute to remember how to get back to Itachi’s room, and he’s distracted the whole time by—all of it, to be honest. The wood floors, the tasteful color choices, the sleek furniture: everything here speaks to money, and lots of it. However much Fugaku might’ve gotten through questionable means is irrelevant. It still feels like a different world than Shisui’s used to. Like he and Itachi really are from different planets.

Will that feeling go away too, if they both start fresh in another country? Or will it just get worse?

Itachi is standing at the window when Shisui finds his room again, and the sight of him stops Shisui short. His delicate fingers are still wrapped around his tea mug, long dark eyelashes absurdly pretty even from across the room. His hair’s falling around his face instead of being tied up in a ponytail for once.

He’s gorgeous. He’s so damn gorgeous it makes Shisui think he was probably made in a lab somewhere.

And Shisui _gets to have him_ , for however long Itachi wants him around. Sometimes the sheer dumb luck of it all still punches him in the face.

“Hey,” he says. It comes out sounding like a croak.

Itachi drops the curtain and turns around. Even in the hazy light Shisui can tell he’s smiling—a little uncertain, maybe, but smiling.

“You’re back,” he says, like Shisui’s been gone for ages. Shisui forcibly beats down the urge to walk up to him and wrap his arms around him and—

“This house is just a really fancy igloo, you know that, right?” he blurts. “It’s—I mean, I am _freezing_ , how are you not freezing?”

Itachi blinks. He sets his mug down on the bedside table.

“This is what I am used to,” he says simply. “But I would not be opposed to…staying close. To pool body heat, and such. If you are cold.”

The words _body heat_ , appropriately, set the last of Shisui’s self-control on fire—especially since he spent the night basically wrapped around Itachi with all their clothes still in the way. And Shisui is a romantic, okay, he loves a good spoon, but he’s also, you know. Eighteen and in possession of a functioning sex drive.

He crosses the room in what has to be record time and takes Itachi’s face in his hands. Itachi doesn’t move. His face is flushed; this close up, Shisui can see exactly how dark his eyes have gotten. It reminds him of that night at the drive-in, and he shivers.

Itachi, bless him, doesn’t take this as an invitation to decide that Shisui is actually literally cold and suggest that they wrap him in blankets, which Shisui guesses means he’s finally made a dent in that alien programming. Instead he pulls Shisui down the two inches between their heights and kisses him.

It’s a good kiss. It’s a _damn_ good kiss, and the rest of Shisui’s vocabulary promptly decides to take a hike after that thought. He licks into Itachi’s mouth, tea taste be damned, and feels Itachi shudder against him.

“Bed?” Itachi murmurs.

Shisui’s pretty sure he can feel the sensation of his brain leaking out of his ears. He nudges Itachi back towards the bed and manages to get them both horizontal, the kissing getting more heated. Shisui’s pajamas are thin as hell, but Itachi’s “inside clothes” aren’t much better, and it occurs to him suddenly that the backseat of Itachi’s car was very possibly the last time either of them got off.

Maybe that’s what Itachi wants this time too—something messy and fast, almost too fast to get any clothes out of the way, and Shisui sure as fuck isn’t going to _complain_ if that's the case, but there’s a part of him that wants—

“More,” Itachi whispers under him. “Shisui, I want—”

“What?” Shisui asks, moving down to kiss Itachi’s neck. It’s only partly so Itachi won’t see his face, which he’s pretty sure has all his thoughts written on it in huge obnoxious letters—from the X-rated ( _I wanna be in you so bad I think my head’s exploding_ ) to the truly unfortunate ( _please keep saying you want me here because sometimes I’m not totally sure I believe you_ ).

But Itachi’s more perceptive than he lets on sometimes. Either that or Shisui’s just really shitty at hiding things from him. He takes Shisui’s face in both hands and gently pulls him up until they’re looking each other in the eyes again.

“More of you,” he says, resolute even though his face is so red you could probably see it from space. “I want all of you.”

Itachi hasn’t told Shisui he loves him yet, but those words hit Shisui almost the same way. They punch him in the chest hard enough to bruise.

“Just so we’re on the same page,” he says when he thinks it’s safe to talk, “are you saying that in a romantic way, or in a sexy way? Because I’ll take either one, but—”

“Both,” Itachi says.

Shisui’s throat goes dry for several different reasons.

“I’m not—” No, that doesn’t sound right. He tries again. “I haven’t, um. With anyone.”

“Neither have I,” Itachi replies.

 _Okay_ , Shisui thinks, focusing very hard on not forgetting how to breathe. _Okay_. He doesn’t insult Itachi by asking if he’s sure, and Itachi doesn’t ask either, so for a minute they’re just looking at each other and turning several spectacular shades of red.

Finally, Itachi clears his throat. “On that note, there are supplies in the nightstand.”

Shisui stares at him for another five seconds before flinging himself off the bed and checking the drawer, which is stocked with a convenience store’s worth of lube and condoms. Holy _shit_. Either Itachi was never as sexually repressed as Shisui had imagined, or he’s decided to pour all his assertiveness into this one area. Either option is brain-melting.

“You’re a god,” Shisui informs him as he returns to the bed. “And also a genius, Oxford was totally right about that. It looks like you robbed a CVS or—”

Itachi interrupts him with another kiss. Probably for the best, Shisui decides.

.

The preparation part takes a while. It makes Shisui nervous at first—his heart in his throat like he’s already doing something wrong—until he realizes even this much is taking Itachi apart, pulling these soft moans from his mouth until Shisui has to kiss him again to make it stop, because otherwise he is absolutely going to come in his pants.

At some point Itachi reaches out and grips his shoulder, hard, and Shisui looks up at him.

“Now?” he manages. Itachi nods.

The rest of the clothes come off then, and one of the condoms goes on, and then Shisui is lining himself up and trying to remember how to breathe as he pushes inside. Itachi’s eyes squeeze shut for a second as he does. Shisui scrapes together his last remaining brain cells and forces himself to remember how words work.

“Is this okay?” he croaks. “You—you’ve gotta tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

Itachi opens his eyes again. He looks up at Shisui with this ridiculously soft look on his face.

“You are not going to hurt me,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Shisui swallows. Twice.

“Does that mean I can keep going?”

“Yes.” Itachi exhales. “Just—slowly.”

“Slow,” he repeats. “Yeah. I can do slow.”

Slow, as it turns out, is some kind of torture—Shisui feels _everything_ when he starts to move, every single inch of tight heat, every place where their skin is touching, and it’s making his heart pound so loudly in his ears he can’t think. The noises coming out of his mouth would make him want to die a little if Itachi weren’t just as far gone, gasping underneath him, his gorgeous hair splayed across the sheets.

Shisui’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t kiss Itachi again right now he will actually die, so he does. Leans down and kisses him slow and deep as Itachi’s arms come up to wrap around his neck. Suddenly Shisui remembers something Itachi had really liked, that one memorable time in the backseat. Their first time doing anything like this. Shisui moves his mouth to the soft skin behind Itachi’s ear.

Kissing that spot gets him a shudder. When he starts using his tongue there, though, he gets a full-throated moan as a reward. Itachi’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at it just a little.

“Fuck,” Shisui says weakly. His brain is a party balloon about to float off somewhere. It’s too big for his skull. He thrusts harder that time, forgetting himself, and Itachi grips his hair so tightly it sends sparks down his spine. He lets out a helpless groan.

Itachi lets go immediately, his gaze sharpening a little. “Did I—”

“It’s okay,” Shisui says quickly. “I, uh. I think I kinda like the hair-pulling stuff. Who knew?”

He’s halfway expecting Itachi’s reaction, but watching his eyes darken even further is still hot as hell.

“Duly noted,” he murmurs, reaching up again.

Shisui’s brief loss of control wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened—turns out Itachi likes it hard, slow or otherwise, and he’s already figured out that pulling Shisui’s hair is a surefire way to make that happen. Shisui manages to find a spot that makes Itachi cry out and immediately decides his goal is to keep hitting that spot, over and over—except then he has a problem, because Itachi keeps making these noises like Shisui’s making him lose his mind, and he’s so _tight_ , and Shisui’s skin feels like it’s on fire. Like he’s gonna burn up from the inside out, just from this.

“Shisui,” Itachi says, pleading.

“I’ve got you,” Shisui breathes.

He reaches down and gets a hand around Itachi, finally, and that does it—Itachi comes, gasping his name, his whole body clenching so that Shisui’s got no choice but to follow him over the edge, smothering a sob in the skin of Itachi’s shoulder.

Neither of them says anything for a while after that.

It takes a minute for Shisui’s brain to come back online, and even then it’s fuzzy. He mostly just registers Itachi’s fingers—twisted up in his hair still, but gentler now, stroking through the curls. Shisui closes his eyes for a second.

 _This is it_ , he thinks dizzily. _He’s it for me._

Eventually he manages to move. He pulls out carefully, ties off the condom and presses a kiss to Itachi’s sweaty forehead. He’s even psyching himself up to ask something simple and terrifying like, _you okay?_ Or, _was that as earthshattering for you as it was for me?_ Or possibly even, _how do you feel about blue and red as wedding colors?_

Itachi beats him to the punch, though: “So I take it this means you haven’t changed your mind?”

Shisui blinks. He gives it a couple seconds before deciding that no, actually, zero words in that sentence made any sense.

“It might just be the sex brain,” he says, “but zero words in that sentence made any sense.”

He’s fully expecting Itachi to make some smartass remark, the way he does. Itachi has a snarky remark for almost any occasion. It’s one of his many, many charms.

But he doesn’t say anything. It’s weird enough that Shisui pulls back to look him in the face properly. Itachi isn’t looking him in the eyes, and Shisui—well, look, the last time Itachi got all quiet and weird about eye contact he’d dumped Shisui less than an hour later. So it’s harder than it should be for Shisui to shove down an instinctive ball of panic.

“Itachi?” he manages to say with some semblance of chill. “Hey, c’mon. Talk to me here. It couldn’t’ve been _that_ bad, right?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but something must go sideways between Shisui’s brain and his mouth because Itachi’s eyes lock onto his with an endearing level of intensity.

“It was perfect,” he says firmly. “Do not—it was perfect, Shisui.” He bites his lip. “I am just…relieved. That’s all.”

“Relieved?” Shisui repeats. His anxious brain finds this deeply suspicious and it probably shows. “Why? Because I still think you’re stupidly hot?”

That gets him a surprised snort of laughter. Shisui grins, pleased with himself.

“No,” Itachi says dryly. “Though it is good to know you will not allow my ego to suffer.” His face goes serious again. “What we talked about last night. About going to Oxford.” He takes a deep breath and says in a rush, “It’s a relief that your feelings haven’t changed. That is all.”

Shisui squints at him. He’s starting to wonder if he’s in the Twilight Zone or some other upside-down bullshit where everything Itachi says is in some arcane code he needs to decipher.

“Nope,” he says, “I still don’t get it. Why would I suddenly change my mind about that?”

“Because I hurt you,” Itachi says quietly, and Shisui stills. “I hurt you badly. I know I did. And in light of that, it was selfish of me to ask you to uproot your whole life so soon after…everything. I would understand completely if you—”

Everything falls into place so suddenly it blindsides him—the glaringly obvious realization that Shisui’s not the only one still feeling raw and insecure. Itachi’s been right there with him this whole time; it’s just that neither of them had figured out how to say it.

Shisui decides it’s his turn to interrupt. Thanks to Itachi, he’s learned a foolproof method.

He kisses him midsentence, kisses whatever stupid words Itachi was about to say right out of his gorgeous mouth. Shisui kisses him until he’s satisfied Itachi isn’t about to start arguing the second they stop, and then he pulls back.

“Okay,” he says conversationally. “So, was there some part of me saying ‘I love you’ that you didn’t get? Did you miss that part when you were breaking up with me?” Itachi flinches, and Shisui _gets it_ , believe him, because saying the words out loud is still a Lot, but he keeps going. “Yeah, all right, you broke up with me. And it fucking sucked.” He swallows hard. “But that doesn’t mean I stopped being in love with you, y’know? I’m not gonna just _stop_. And I’m sure as hell not gonna say no to anything that means we don’t have to do this—” He gestures at their lack of clothes, the mess, the bed in general “—over the phone for four years. Okay?”

Itachi lets out a choked laugh. At least, Shisui’s like forty percent sure it’s a laugh. It sounds kind of wet.

“You also have only one phone at home,” Itachi says hoarsely. “That could become problematic.”

Shisui shrugs. “Natsu’s heard worse. She walked in on me and Anko declaiming love poetry to a poster of David Bowie once—you want to talk about blackmail material, that was _way_ worse than a little phone sex.”

Itachi shakes his head, but he’s finally smiling again.

“I would hate to impose further suffering on your sister,” he says. Then, careful, “If you’re sure.”

Shisui kisses him on the nose. “I’m sure, nerd.”

They get quiet again for a while. Objectively Shisui’s aware that they should probably clean up at some point, but Itachi’s not complaining and it’s his bed, so Shisui just holds him closer as the snow keeps falling outside. He has no idea what time it is. All of his limbs are heavy and his heart feels so stupidly full he’s surprised Itachi can’t see it beating.

 _He’s it for me_ , Shisui thinks again. The words feel more solid now than they did before. _They_ feel more solid than they did even an hour ago.

“Sleep,” Itachi murmurs against his chest, sounding drowsy already. Shisui loves him so fucking much.

He feels so warm. It makes it easy to go back to sleep.


End file.
